


Damn, Mr. Stark. You're screwed.

by peter_parkr



Series: you're alright, kid. [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Baking, Blood and Injury, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hurt Tony Stark, Injury, Precious Peter Parker, Teen Peter Parker, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Whumptober, Whumptober 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 05:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16423427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peter_parkr/pseuds/peter_parkr
Summary: [2:48 pm] Peter. Urgent business. Need your help.[2:49 pm] Meet Happy behind school in 5 -T.S.---Or: Tony tries to bake Pepper a birthday cake and enlists Peter's help. It ends with one (1) very confused teenager as well as twelve (12) stitches in his hand.





	Damn, Mr. Stark. You're screwed.

**Author's Note:**

> PROMPT #2: Bloody Hands  
> Warnings: swearing, smol injury/stitches
> 
> This is a chill one before the angst storm hehe :-) please feel free to leave a comment!

_Click-click. Click-click. Click-click._  

 

MJ shot Peter a withering glare from her desk. The boy smiled shyly and stilled his hand, which had been rhythmically clicking a pen for the past 5 minutes while he waited impatiently for the bell to ring. Normally Peter enjoyed calculus, but this was just one of those days where  _everything_  was boring. The whole day, from his alarm going off until now, was a mundane blur. Nothing could get him excited. Nothing, except...

Peter's phone buzzed from the pocket of his jeans. He was so lost in his boredom that he almost couldn't be bothered to check who it was, but decided against that - May hated when he didn't answer her texts. The phone buzzed again. Sighing, Peter discreetly pulled it out and glanced at the cracked screen under his desk.

**Tony Stark: Text Message** **(2)**

 

"Shit -" Peter's eyes shot open as he cursed under his breath, earning a sharp glare from his teacher. His posture immediately changing from slouched to bolt upright in his chair. MJ briefly shot him a curious glance which was quickly replaced by her usual mask of casual indifference.

What could Mr. Stark possibly need from him on a Wednesday afternoon? It  _had_  to be a mission. Hopefully a dangerous one - something that would break up the torturous monotony of this week.

Peter swiped a shaky thumb across the screen.

 

**[2:48 pm] Peter. Urgent business. Need your help.**

**[2:49 pm]** **Meet Happy behind school in 5 -T.S.**

 

The bell rang at exactly 2:50, as usual. Peter shot out of his rickety seat, haphazardly stuffing his messy books and papers into a battered backpack. He grabbed his hoodie and sprinted into the hallway, gone before the teacher even had the chance to put down his chalk. 

Casually shoving a notebook into her own backpack, MJ turned around to face Ned, who instantly froze where he stood, his eyes wide with terrkr.

"Where's Parker rushing off to? Hot date?"

Ned blushed deeply and shifted his eyes away from MJ, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. He stammered as he searched for an excuse for Peter's behaviour. "Uhh. Um. H - he has... a cooking class! Yeah. Pete's learning to cook... and bake. Pies. Croissants. Soufflé. All the good stuff."

MJ smirked and raised one eyebrow. She obviously didn't buy it. "Cooking class, huh? I literally watched Parker eat a jar of pickles for lunch yesterday. Definitely a man of  _haute palette_." She snorted before trudging out of the classroom, leaving Ned behind to let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.  _Damn, she's scary_  Ned thought before frantically texting Peter to find out what was up.

 

Meanwhile, Peter had already grabbed his suit from underneath the lockers and was leaping down the back stairs outside of the school, taking 8 at a time. Happy's shiny black car was idling in the parking lot, looking out of place amongst the school buses and beige beaters of Queens. Not wasting a second, Peter threw himself into the back of the car and slammed the door behind him. Happy peeled off.

"Hey, Happy! What's up? Is everything OK? What does Mr. Stark need? Is this a mission? Are there aliens? Is it dangerous? Should I suit up now? Will Mr. Captain America be there? When will I be home by? Because I told May I'd do the laundry tonight. What's -"

"Kid. _Please_. I have a mondo headache." Happy did not sound... happy.

"Sorry. Sorrysorrysorry. But like - can you give me a hint? Just one? Please? So I'm, like, prepared and all that?"

"Boss says it's classified. Sorry kid -  _fuck you!_ " Happy cursed as a cab cut him off and flipped the driver off. He rolled up the privacy screen.

Peter spent the rest of the seemingly endless ride to Stark Tower nervously fidgeting around the car, bouncing from seat to seat. He changed into his suit. He went over some fight moves in his head and practiced his web-shooty gestures (only accidentally webbing Mr. Stark's leather seats once). By the time they arrived at the tower, Peter was practically buzzing with anxious energy. He lunged out of the car, shoved on his mask and was halfway to the door before Happy even got out of his seat.

"He's in the kitchen!" Happy yelled after the kid, rolling his eyes fondly. 

Peter spun around (nearly losing his balance), pointed at Happy and bellowed "Thanks! You're the best!" before rushing into the tower's waiting elevator.

In the seconds before the elevator doors re-opened, Peter braced himself for whatever was ahead. He expected Mr. Stark to be geared up for battle in his latest Iron Man suit, maybe huddled around the table with some other Avengers, going over the game plan.  _This is it_ Peter thought.  _My chance to prove myself to Mr. Stark_. If his boredom lately was any indiction, Peter was ready for more.  _Spider-man_  was ready for more. Peter shut his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. The elevator dinged. Spider-man stepped out confidently to face whatever danger was lying ahead.

The sight that met Peter's eyes is something that will stay burned in his mind forever.

Tony Stark. Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist. Iron Man. Standing alone in his kitchen. Wearing a Captain America apron. Absolutely  _covered_  in flour from head to toe.

Mr. Stark didn't notice him right away. The man was bent over the counter with his head buried in a "Cakes for Dummies" recipe book, muttering to himself with his readers sitting low on his nose. Peter scanned the kitchen for any sign of a threat, but other than the fact that it looked like a bomb had gone off in there from all the mess, everything seemed safe. Peter face palmed and tugged off his mask with a groan as the reality of the situation hit him. This was  _not_  how his badass mission was supposed to go. 

"Mr. Stark?"

Tony started and looked up at Peter from his book.

"Peter, jesus christ. Thank  _god_  you're here. I am in WAY over my head - wait, why are you wearing your suit?"

Peter blushed. "I thought - you said urgent... I was expecting another, you know, mission! Bad guys, rogue Avengers, aliens, pew-pew!" The boy made finger guns to accentuate his point.

Mr. Stark barked out a laugh. "Oh shit... that's my bad. Should have been more clear on the details of this particular...  _mission_. Terrible texter. Sorry."

Peter snorted and slumped down onto a counter stool, looking dejected. He dumped his backpack on the floor. "No, no, it's my bad Mr. Stark. I just got... overexcited. I was hoping for a little action." Peter sighed and looked at the floor, tapping his foot gently against the stool.. "Life is just so... meh these days, y'know?"

Tony squinted at Peter analytically over his readers. "Hmm. Well, if you're looking for some entertainment, I'm suffering over here. Bit of a crisis situation. See, it's Pepper's birthday. She's coming for dinner tonight and I wanted to make her a cake. Something nice. She deserves it. But damn, baking is  _hard_! And I thought, since you're such a little chemist, you might be able to save me here... what d'you say?"

Peter checked the clock on the wall and raised his eyebrows. "Damn, Mr. Stark. You're screwed."

"Yeah, I figured that much myself. So, spidey-boy, will you help me or not?"

Peter smiled softly at the nickname. "Yeah, alright, Mr. Stark. My Uncle Ben, uh, he actually taught me to bake when I was younger. It's just like following a formula, really. Don't worry, I'll show you the ropes."

Mr. Stark let out a breath of relief and threw down his recipe book. "Oh, thank christ. I owe you big time, kid."

 

So that's how Peter Parker, fully clad in his Spider-Man suit, ended up spending his evening baking a double chocolate cake with none other than Tony Stark himself. So far it was actually going surprisingly well. In fact, they were doing great. The cakes were almost done baking in an oven that looked like it cost more than everything Peter owned. Peter had stationed Mr. Stark on a stool in front of the stove window to watch the cakes carefully while he whipped up some chocolate icing at the counter. The timer dinged cheerfully - and everything went downhill from there. 

"Hey Pete, these bad-boys look ready! I'm gonna take them out." 

Peter glanced over his shoulder proudly. "Alright, Mr. Stark! Make sure they're fully cooked though. Don't want to poison Ms. Potts with raw egg on her birthday."

"How the hell am I supposed to know that? They just look... brown." Tony asked incredulously, squinting sceptically at the cakes. Peter sighed and continued frantically whipping his icing, adding a bit more cocoa and raising his voice over the sound of the beaters.

"Ok, first - are you ready? - put your hand on top of the cake and press down reaallly gently. Don't burn yourself. Then let go. Does the cake spring back up like a sponge?"

 "Yeah! Yeah it does! It's spongey as fuck!" Mr. Stark had an excitement in his voice that could only usually be found when he was working in his lab. 

"Great! Cool. Perfect. Now, just to double check for crumbs, take a knife and stick it in the centre of the cake -" 

"FFFFFUCK!"

Peter dropped the icing bowl and whipped around at the sound Mr. Stark's violent expletive.

"Mr. Stark! What - what happened?! Are you ok??"

" _Shit_ on a stick, FUCK!" Tony was hunched over the stove, his face clenched in pain, clutching his left hand close to his chest. The top of his hand had a comically large steak knife firmly lodged into it. Blood was absolutely gushing out of the wound, pouring onto his hand and everything else - his Cap apron, the stove, the floor, and, worst of all - the freshly baked cakes.

 

And that's how Peter Parker, fully clad in his Spider-Man suit, ended up spending the remainder of his evening sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor stitching up Tony Stark's hand.

"Really, Mr. Stark? First of all, you just needed like a little butter knife or something, not a fucking _murder_ weapon -"

"Ow! Ok, ok, kid, save the lecture for later when you're _not_ sewing my goddamn skin back together. _FUck_ \- are you sure you know what you're doing here?"

"Relax, Mr. Stark. I stitch myself up after patrol like every week. I'm even better at this than baking cakes. Just hang tight, I'm almost done..."

"You stitch _yourself_ up? Kid, we really need to work on the whole asking-for-help thing. You're not in this alone, you know."

Peter smiled as he pulled the last stitch through and Mr. Stark winced. "Yeah, yeah. I'll come running to you with my boo-boos every night."

At that moment, Pepper Potts decided to waltz into the kitchen. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the disaster scene around her - the dirty stacked pots and pans, the flour and cocoa coating _every_ surface, the pool of blood on the floor, the open first-aid kit, and the two idiots who were sat on the ground looking up at her guiltily. One clutched his bloodied hand tightly while the other was wielding a large needle. Wordlessly, Pepper rolled her eyes as if she wasn't even surprised by shit like this anymore and spun on her heels, walking towards the door.

Before she left, Pepper paused and turned around in the doorway. "For the record," she said. "I think those cakes could use a couple more minutes." 

**Author's Note:**

> some nice lighthearted fun!! lmk what you think <3


End file.
